


phantom dreams

by stillplainy



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Andrew Minyard Has Feelings, Andrew Minyard's a dreamer, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Joseph Kavinsky is His Own Warning, M/M, Nice Joseph Kavinsky, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Violence, The Raven Cycle AU, as he's only his dream-self
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29201691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillplainy/pseuds/stillplainy
Summary: This was the good and bad of Andrew Minyard: The good was that sometimes when he fell asleep and dreamt, he woke with that dream. The bad was that sometimes when he fell asleep and dreamt, he woke with that dream.or, the one in which Andrew's a dreamer
Relationships: Andrew Minyard & Joseph Kavinsky, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Kudos: 16





	phantom dreams

**Author's Note:**

> English isn't my native language, I'm sorry, and I tried  
> The whole prompt was *cough* *cough* "andrew dreamt his knives"  
> (first sentence is a deliberate quotation from "Call down the Hawk" by Maggie Stiefvater)

_This was the good and bad of Andrew Minyard: The good was that sometimes when he fell asleep and dreamt, he woke with that dream. The bad was that sometimes when he fell asleep and dreamt, he woke with that dream._

  
He could not be older than five when he first took something out. He woke up in his orphanage bed, in his hands a shiny heated marble. He kept it buried in his pockets so the other kids could not take it, his chaste little secret.

He gifted it to his next maybe-parents and regretted it after, his tiny treasure lost along with his naiveté.

Sometimes he woke with the fancy toy cars he longed for so long, but it was useless as nobody believed him. Sitting in a corner, he had to atone for the theft. Sometimes he found rainbow beetles in the covers and shrieked, but it only got him a beating, and soon the beasts became his only trustees.

He was roundly ten years old when they found him another parody of a family: a man, a woman, and their son, older by barely four years. They were first to understand, grinned, and approved as he woke with yet another thing, a greater one, more expensive than the last. The son slept all the goddamn time, and when he did not, his expression blank as he dreamt something powdered and plain white, and nonetheless more precious than anything than Andrew ever dreamt. It made him envious, as he would give anything to make them accept and acknowledge him. Then the woman took a lot of cash, left, and the man poured his anger on the younger boy.  
"I have nothing to do with you," K thrust the knife in his father's back, his voice surprisingly peaceful. Andrew stood breathless, black-eyed, lips bloodied. "Run."  
And so he did.

The dreams after were nightmares of blades, glinting and sharp-edged. The boy saw the Kavinskys, all of his oppressors, and knives, knives, knives. He screamed and woke up.  
Sometimes stoned, pale and tired K would show up and slid his knife under their ribs like butter. It was not enough to defend against Drake. Dream K could only do as much. He was not the hero Andrew had expected, but he had not met any greater. It was bitter and hard-to-swallow truth.

In all these years, Andrew had not given his abilities’ origin that much thought. And then he found out that he had a twin brother. Aaron looked so similar to him that it made him wonder if Aaron was actually one of his dream creations. But he pushed the thought aside. His brother was the better, more stable version. He could never dream of anything more concrete, more complete.  
He was tough. They both were just as sturdy, petite, and stubborn. Where Andrew was the blade, Aaron was the shaft. Blink, and you will get hurt.  
Wherever Andrew's powers came from, his brother was safe and sound, away from this doom.

He slept with blades under his pillows, pressed to his chest, clenched in his fists. He brushed metal and tasted blood by the smell. He had nowhere to be safe.  
Tilda turned out to be an illusion, a vision of a mother who never existed, and Andrew really forgot about the sting of regret. One hit against the wall, a punch aimed to the cheek, another wound- He heard K's voice, whispering wicked proposals. "Do it again, and I'll kill you," he swore.  
And so he did.

There he was, smoking on the rooftop, and briefly wondered if dream cigs could fuck his lungs as well as the real ones. He wished they could. He had been pulling out so much recently it got him weary, but each time the rush of adrenaline when he did it was priceless.  
He was the nightmare thief. He wondered what had happened to K after that night. Did he get locked up? K was a sly fox. He would be fine.  
Were there any others like them? It seemed unlikely. If there were, they would be fucking miserable.

He did not say a word about his abilities to Coach, Renee, Nicky, or even Aaron. He was pretty sure no one assumed anything as he woke up with an armband, ear pierced, or brand-new exy equipment. Nothing extra, as he did not like raising unnecessary suspicion. He did not want anyone to know, did not want to be used again. He has tried dream drugs, but they fuck up his mind so mad he dropped the tempting idea.

Nothing good ever comes out of dreaming.

Then there was that dumbass loser, Neil Josten, dressed like a junkie, their secrets larger than life. Andrew slept. Neil was always in motion, never himself. In the dark place somewhere in his head, he met them both. An imaginary K shrugged as he shared a glare with an imaginary Neil. It was not difficult to come to the conclusion that there was something amiss. Neither version resembled its original. K did not try to kill the trespasser, and Neil did not attempt to talk shit or strangle him to death like everyone in these dreams did.

That night he awakened with a blade in his clutched palms so sharp-edged he bled. He took more of his meds so that he would not fell asleep in the imminent future. These nightmares grew even more peculiar. 

For days after the Ravens' hell of training, he kept waking up to discover that he pulled out yet more painkillers, bandages that would hopefully (as he was never sure if this dream crap would actually work) help with the wounds. It was driving him insane. It did not make sense.

He wanted to protect this boy even when he looked capable of doing it himself, so Neil did not have to run.  
"It wouldn't hurt to, like, have feelings."  
K pointed at the bands in his hand matching his own. He was damned. Unreasonable.  
_It’s okay_ , Andrew thought for the first time in ages, _to dream_.  
Forever fourteen K laughed like a mad man, but there he was right.

  
(When he woke, there was constant warmth by his side.  
Andrew let himself rest.)

**Author's Note:**

> Andrew could really use some of Ronan's dreamer training  
> this was supposed to be longer, with mention of the Crying Club, but-  
> but y'know how it works  
> I made K 4 years older so the real one's dead when aftg takes place, sorry, but a reunion would be epic


End file.
